


Three times I loved you

by atamasco



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Babies, Bath Time, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Intimate touching, M/M, soft, unkillable gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 09:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11227986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atamasco/pseuds/atamasco
Summary: Three silverflint ficlets! Get ready for:I. Silver and Flint looking after a baby, aka Pirate DadsII. Stinky pirate husbands need bath timeIII. Silver watches Flint dieMany feelings, all good endings <3





	Three times I loved you

**Author's Note:**

> These ficlets are based on some general concepts or situations that I was excited to see Flint and Silver in. All based in the Black Sails canon, but they do not exactly fit in. Pretty short but heavily filled with feelings. Don't be scared of the last one; it's angst with a happy ending :)

**I. Silver and Flint looking after a baby, aka Pirate Dads**

After the battle in the square in Nassau, Silver walks back to the governor’s house, where the pirates have made their base. The streets are empty, apart from the dead bodies he passes. Soldiers, pirates, but also civilians.

He walks past a woman’s body. She lies stretched out on the ground, a bloody bullet wound in her back. A soft whining sound comes from her.

Silver startles. He kneels down next to her and touches her arm.

She lies completely still. The whining grows louder.

Silver carefully turns her over. In her dead arms the woman clutches a baby; the source of the sound. The baby seems to be unharmed. However, its crying starts to grow louder.

Crying is good, Silver knows. It is an unmistakeable sign of life.

Silver sits by the woman and the baby and thinks about what he should do, because he knows he needs to do something. He can’t just leave the baby here to die.  

He kneels and picks up the baby. Standing up with a baby in one hand while leaning on a crutch with the other is a challenge, but he manages. The baby goes quiet in his arms. Babies are simple creatures. They do not care about good or bad, right or wrong. Pirate or civilian. All they care about, is seeing their basic needs fulfilled. Warmth, and food, and comfort. So taking care of a baby should be easy, right? At least for a couple of minutes.

Silver continues his walk to the governor’s house. One of the rooms on the ground floor has been turned into a sick bay. Silver figures he should be able to find someone there who can take care of the baby. At the very least the doctor can check if the baby is alright.  

He enters the room and is met by the sound of people softly talking. Nearly all the beds are taken. Men and women are walking around with washcloths and bandages, looking after the wounded, sitting beside their brothers. Silver looks around and sees Flint sitting on the edge of one of the cots, in the right corner by the window.

Silver walks over to him and sits down on the empty cot across from him. He quickly looks Flint over – apart from some superficial cuts and scrapes, he seems fine.

‘Just some scrapes and bruises’, Flint says. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Flint notices the baby in Silver’s arms, quietly sleeping. He stares at it for a couple of seconds, then looks up at Silver with a confused look in his eyes.

‘Found her in the streets’, Silver says. ‘Beside her dead mother. I couldn’t just leave her there.’

Flint nods slowly, understanding. He looks at the baby with a pained expression. He feels guilty for the death and destruction his war causes to innocent families.

They talk about the battle; how it went, how many men they lost, what their next strategies are. Flint occasionally glances over to the baby in Silver’s arms. Silver lets the baby rest on his forearm; she is lying on her back, sound asleep. When the baby wakes up and starts to whine, Silver automatically begins to gently rock her back and forth, without so much as looking at her, without being the slightest bit distracted from the conversation he is having with Flint. It gives Flint some strange feelings. It makes him wonder if Silver has previous experience with holding and soothing babies.

The baby reaches out with her little hands and grabs a lock of Silver’s hair.

‘Hey’, Silver says, a gently warning tone in his voice, and carefully tries to pry her tiny little fist loose from his hair. She has a strong hold however and is not planning on letting go anytime soon.

Silver laughs. ‘She’s a stubborn one,’ he says.

He looks up at Flint and is met with a completely soft and tender look on his Captain’s face that makes something twist in Silver’s gut. He is not used to seeing his Captain like that. In fact, he has never seen him look like that.

So Silver has to make a joke or be a little shit, preferably both at the same time; anything he can do to break the spell.

‘Do you want to hold her?’, Silver jokingly asks Flint.

‘No, thank you’, Flint says quickly. ‘Looks to me like you’re doing fine. She likes you.’

‘Don’t be shy now, Captain’, Silver teases him. ‘Surely the tyrannical Captain Flint is not scared of a tiny, innocent little baby?’

Silver holds out the baby to him, practically pushes it into his arms. Flint has no other choice than to reach out and take her over from Silver. He holds her like he saw Silver holding her, lets her rest on his forearm, his other arm wrapped around her to keep her stable.

She is heavier than he would have thought. She looks at Flint with her big, dark brown eyes.

‘Hi’, Flint says uncomfortably.

He hears Silver snort, but ignores him.

The baby laughs at him. She tramples her chubby little legs in the air.

‘Hush, hush’, Flint laughs at her enthusiasm.

‘See? You’re a natural’, Silver says with a smug look on his face.

Flint blushes.

Silver thought it would be funny to see Flint with a prattling bundle in his arms but ‘funny’ is not the word he would use to describe the sight in front of him. Something in between ‘heart-warming’ and ‘disturbing’ would be more appropriate.

‘Did you ever want to have children?’, Silver blurts out.

Flint looks up at him. The baby is tightly holding his index finger in her tiny fist. He thinks about Silver’s question. Silver realises he doesn’t want to know the answer. It is too intimate, too raw.

‘Never mind’, Silver says quickly. ‘I shouldn’t ask. Forget about it.’

They are hardened men who lead dangerous, destructive lives. They are unsettled, always on the move. They aren’t made to have a quiet, peaceful life. To have a family. All they have, is each other.

Flint, however, is determined on answering the question.

‘In another time, in another place... I may have liked to have a family,’ Flint says softly, his gaze fixed on the baby.

Silver feels uneasy. He doesn’t want to know the man behind Captain Flint. Captain Flint is someone he knows, who is obvious and clear to him, someone he knows how to deal with. Flint telling Silver he might have liked to have a family if circumstances had been different is information that Silver doesn’t know what to do with.

‘And you?’, Flint asks, eyes still on the baby.

‘I’m sorry?’, Silver says, surprised.

Flint looks up at him. ‘Would you like to have children?’ His expression is pure, open, innocent. Curious. Not judging.

Silver laughs nervously. ‘God, no,’ he says. ‘I am sure I would make a terrible father.’

‘This one here seems to think differently,’ Flint says, smiling.

‘Well, of course she does. She’s a baby,’ Silver says. ‘She will like anyone who doesn’t harm her. That is hardly a good judgment of parenting skills.’

‘I guess you’re right’, Flint says. ‘The world certainly doesn’t need any more annoyingly chatty thieves.’ There are crinkles around his eyes, showing his amusement.

Silver huffs a laugh. ‘Are you insulting my imaginary children now, Captain?’

Flint smiles at him and opens his mouth to say something, but he is distracted by something he sees behind Silver. Silver turns around to see what it is.

Madi has entered the room. She looks around and when she sees the two of them sitting on the cots, she walks over to them. When she is standing next to them, Madi looks at Flint and sees the baby in his arms. She looks over to Silver, and back to Flint, raising an eyebrow.

‘Silver found her in the streets’, Flint says, justifying the baby’s presence.

‘I have been looking everywhere for you two’, Madi says. ‘And here you are, playing mommy and daddy?’

Silver and Flint both turn red from head to chest.

‘I’m the daddy’, Silver says quickly.

‘Absolutely not. I am _not_ going to be the mommy’, Flint says.

The baby starts to cry.

‘Look what you’re doing! You’ve made her cry!’, Silver says.

‘What _I_ am doing?! You started this whole nonsense!’, Flint hisses, keeping his voice down as to not startle the baby. He gently lulls her in his arms in an attempt to soothe her.

‘You can both be the dad. You can be the dads together’, Madi says. ‘But now I think you should hand her over to a responsible adult.’

After an inspection from the doctor, they hand the baby over to one of the whores from the brothel. Some of them have children, and they take care of them together. One more mouth to feed would not be too big of a burden.    

 

**II. Stinky pirate husbands need bath time**

It is late in the afternoon, almost evening. The sun is setting low. They are back in Nassau, after the pirates have defeated Rogers and both the English and Spanish armies. Flint and his crew are based at the governor’s house. Flint is cleaning himself in one of the bedrooms upstairs. He sits at the desk, with a bowl of water and a towel in front of him. He absentmindedly wipes at his face with the towel. This is the first time in…in _months,_ probably, that he has had a moment to clean himself up a bit.

The door opens and someone enters the room. Flint doesn’t look up; the only person who dares to enter Flint’s space without knocking is Silver. Silver walks over to the bed, across from the desk, and sits down on the edge. Flint turns around in his chair to face Silver. Silver has to supress a laugh. Flint has tried to clean his face, but without the help of a mirror, he hasn’t done a very good job. It looks like all he did was shove the dirt on his face around, not remove it. Silver grabs a chair and sits down right in front of Flint. He takes the towel, shortly dips it into the bowl with water, and starts wiping at Flint’s face. Flint sits back and lets Silver do his work.

Silver can tell that Flint is really enjoying this – being touched tenderly, with care. Silver can see it on his face, can see it in his posture; he is relaxed, open. It doesn’t take long before his eyes become half-lidded, and he finally lets them fall closed.

Flint looks golden in the afternoon light that streams through the windows.

‘Is this all it takes?’, Silver says in an amused tone, breaking the silence of the room.

Flint doesn’t look up, only hums, wordlessly asking for clarification.

Silver wipes the towel over Flint’s cheek.

‘After everything we’ve been through, all it takes to undo Captain Flint is a damp cloth.’

A smile creeps up on Flint’s face, his eyes still closed.

‘In my defence, you are doing a pretty good job at this,’ he murmurs.

Silver smiles. ‘You’re way too easy. You’re way too eager in giving me things that I could one day hold against you.’

Flint is still smiling, dimples forming in his cheeks. ‘I told you, I’ll take my chances.’

‘I am forced to consider the possibility that you _want_ to be undone by me.’

‘All I want’, Flint says, ‘is for you to shut up and keep going.’

Silver grins. He goes just a little too low with the towel. He gently rubs it at Flint’s throat. Moves it down over his collarbones, and further down to his chest, over the part that is exposed by the V-neck of his shirt. Silver has let the towel soak up too much water. Waterdrops stream down Flint’s skin, into his shirt, from where Silver presses the towel to his skin. Flint shivers at the cold of the water. His lips have parted. He lets out soft breaths in Silver’s face.  

Silver has his good leg positioned between Flint’s spread thighs. He lets his knee drop against the inside of Flint’s left thigh. Flint startles a little; his breath hitches for a moment before he relaxes again. Silver can feel the comfortable warmth of Flint’s body through the fabric of his trousers.

Silver leans forward to kiss the parts of Flint’s skin that he has cleaned. He places a kiss on his cheek. His jawline, covered in fuzz. His throat. Gently sucks at the skin there. Flint softly gasps at the sensation.

Silver leans back, content. He has Flint exactly where he wants him. Soft as wax in his hands, a faint pink blush on his cheeks.

‘Look at me’, Silver says.

Flint slowly opens his eyes.

Silver looks at him for a moment before he bends forward and presses his lips to Flint’s.

Sometimes this is enough. Just being together and sharing a tender, intimate moment.

 

**III. Silver watches Flint die***

* _I know this one is completely incorrect with Black Sails canon, in the sense that people are in places where they shouldn't be. I wrote it like this because I needed it to happen like this. Please don't think about it too much and just go with the story :)_

The popping sound of guns being fired. The clash of sword hitting sword. Men screaming, in madness, in fear, in panic.

Silver is having trouble breathing. The air is heavy with gun smoke, with the smell of warm blood.

He is surrounded by movement and noise. People are running past him. Soldiers keep coming at him, thinking he is an easy prey. What do they have to fear from a one-legged man?

Silver runs them through with his sword, one by one. The vibrations that run from the sword through his hand as he pierces flesh and muscle and bone make him feel sick in his stomach. He feels like he needs to throw up, but he can’t do that right now. He has to fight. He has to survive.

He turns his head and sees Flint, about twenty metres away from him. Flint kneels down amidst the chaos. Hornigold is coming at him, on his horse, sword in hand, ready to strike.

Flint hastily prepares his gun. He rushes to be ready in time and take Hornigold down with one careful shot.

Hornigold lifts his sword.

Flint fires, a cloud of smoke lifting from the gun.

Hornigold falls from his horse and hits the ground.  

Flint gets up, panting heavily. He walks over to Hornigold who is lying on his back on the ground.

Silver takes a deep breath. The tightness in his chest slowly flows away. The battle is over. With the loss of Hornigold the English soldiers will have no choice but to retreat.

Blood flows from Hornigold’s mouth as he gasps for air. His gasps become shorter until he finally lays still.  

Flint stands over Hornigold’s dead body as an English soldier comes up behind him, screaming, sword pointed forward. Flint has only half turned around at the sound when the soldier reaches him and stabs him in his abdomen.

The air is knocked from Silver’s lungs.

The soldier draws his sword back and Flint stumbles back. He lifts his hands to his belly, presses them to the dark red spot that is rapidly growing on his shirt. He takes a few steps, stumbling away from Hornigold’s body and the soldier. He looks up and meets Silver’s eyes. The expression on his face is blank, empty. His eye twitches.

Flint collapses, onto his knees. He falls to the ground like a ragdoll, onto his side, and rolls onto his back on the leaf-covered forest ground. 

Silver wants to scream, wants to call out his name, but his voice is gone. His throat is blocked. He wants to run to Flint, but the pain in his stump, when he puts too much weight on his peg leg, has him nearly blacking out. He is too slow and there is no time. There is no sound. The world is completely quiet.

The soldier walks up to Flint and lifts his sword.

It is already too late when he sees Silver coming up to him. Silver lashes out and runs the soldier through with his sword. The man drops his sword at the sudden impact. Silver pulls his sword back, drawing an awful, gurgling sound from the man. He falls down and lays on the forest floor, a dull shine over his eyes.

Silver stumbles over to Flint and crashes down onto the ground next to him. The stinging pain in his stump has him gasping for air, but he doesn’t care. It isn’t important.  

Flint is grunting, panting heavily. His eyes roll in their sockets, wide and unseeing.

‘It’s alright, it’s alright. Captain, look at me,’ Silver says, trying to keep his voice from trembling.

Flint looks at him, his eyes finally finding a point to focus on.

‘John’, he mutters. ‘John.’ He coughs, giving up blood.

‘Ssh, it’s alright. The doctor will be here soon,’ Silver says. He says it to calm himself down maybe more than to reassure Flint.

He glances over to Flint’s belly and has to bite his tongue to stop himself from letting out a whine. Flint’s hands are still covering the wound. They are shining red with blood. Silver catches the metallic scent in the air and his stomach turns.

Silver lifts his hands and covers Flint’s with them, keeping pressure on the wound.

The battle is over. The doctor will be here soon. Flint just needs to hang in there. He needs to keep fighting just a little longer.

‘John’, Flint keeps saying, struggling more and more to get the word out, until all Silver can hear is ‘oh, oh…’

‘It’s alright. You’ll be fine. You’re not dying, James, you hear me? You’re not going to fucking die’, Silver cries out. ‘Not now, goddammit.’ Not now that they have won. Not now that they are so close to changing the world.

A single tear flows from the corner of Flint’s eye, runs down over his temple, mixing with the blood and sweat that sticks on his skin.

‘It’s okay’, Silver says, his voice breaking, his eyes burning. ‘I am here. I’m going to get you through this. I’m going to stay here with you and we’re going to get through this together, okay? You hear me?’

Flint coughs and fucking _smiles_ at John, weakly yet reassuringly. Silver knows, he can see on Flint’s face that he is fully aware of the lies that Silver is feeding them both.

Flint turns his hand under Silver’s, slowly and shaking heavily, so that their open palms are touching. Silver grabs his hand, squeezes it tightly.

Silver can feel the knot in his stomach pull tighter. Flint is giving up. Flint is giving up, he is dying and he is comforting Silver, god fucking dammit.

‘Captain’, Silver says, and he chokes up. He cannot let Flint know, let the look on his face betray what he is thinking.

That the doctor isn’t coming. That Flint is not going to get through this.

‘Captain.’

\---

Billy walks through the forest, between the bodies of the men that have fallen today. The leaves crunch under his boots. He hears soft crying in the distance, of men in pain, of men who have lost their brothers.

He walks up the hill, looks around for his mates, those who he might still be able to save. Looks around for soldiers who need one last stab in the gut to send them to the next world.

He sees someone sitting between the trees, kneeling, their back turned to Billy. They are shivering heavily, their shoulders shaking. He recognises Silver by his dark curls, flowing over his back, sticking to his coat from sweat and blood and grease. He is sitting in front of someone, a body lying on the ground.

Billy walks up to him, walks around him to be able to see Silver’s face and see who it is he is sitting beside.

The body on the ground is Flint’s. He has his eyes closed. His shirt is covered in blood. Silver’s hands are on his belly, red with blood.

Silver doesn’t look up. He doesn’t seem to notice Billy. He just sits there, shivering, with his hands on Flint’s blood-soaked shirt. Staring at nothing.

Billy is not sad over the loss of Flint. Billy never liked him. Maybe he is even sort of relieved that this man, this force of nature, has finally been stopped in his destructive path. But he feels sorry for Silver, because he can clearly see that Silver is deeply touched by the loss of their Captain. He knows how close they had become in the last couple of weeks.

Billy sits down on one knee, tries to come at eye-level with Silver, but Silver still doesn’t seem to see him. He is quietly rocking back and forth; his lower lip is trembling. Billy can see the tracks of dried tears on his cheeks.

‘Silver’, Billy says, trying to get through to him.

Silver finally looks up at him. His eyes are red and puffy.

‘Billy. Where is the doctor?’, Silver says in a thin voice. ‘You need to get the doctor.’

‘Silver’, Billy says, trying to sound soft and gentle. ‘I don’t think the doctor can do anything for him anymore.’

‘Didn’t you hear me?’, Silver says, snapping. ‘I said, get the doctor. He is bleeding out. He needs help. There is still time.’

Someone comes up the hill. Dooley finds them sitting there, kneeling over Flint’s dead body. He looks over from Flint, to Silver, to Billy.

‘Is he dead?’, Dooley says.

Billy silently curses Dooley for being such a dumb, insensitive ass.

Silver breathes heavily, pressing his hands to Flint’s belly just a little harder.

‘Come on. Get up’, Billy says to Silver.

‘No’, Silver says, ignoring Billy’s words like a stubborn child.

‘Silver. It’s no use.’

‘I need to keep pressure on the wound,’ Silver says, his voice shaking.

Billy sighs and looks up to Dooley, silently asking him to help him with this.

‘He’s gone, mate’, Dooley says, and reaches out to touch Silver’s shoulder.

Silver reacts as if stung by a wasp. He rolls his shoulder, shaking off Dooley’s hand, and bares his teeth, snarls at him like a wild beast.

‘Don’t touch me’, he roars.

It takes four men to pull Silver away from Flint’s body. He fights and kicks as they drag him away, hitting them in the shins with his metal peg leg. They drag him back to the camp, to the sick bay, to have the doctor check up on him.

Flint’s body is carried away and placed in an empty hut at the edge of the camp.

\---

It has been hours since the battle ended. Silver is still covered in dirt and blood because he wouldn’t let anyone touch him to take care of his wounds. Doctor Howell gave up and decided to just let him be.

Silver sits in the hut where Flint’s body lies on display. The air is heavy with incense, lit by some of the Maroons. They said it would help Flint’s soul find a safe passage to the afterlife. Silver knows it also helps to make tolerable the stench of a decaying body.

Flint looks peaceful, like he is only sleeping. Someone has washed the dirt and blood from his face. Silver can see the freckles on his cheekbones, on the bridge of his nose.

He lifts his hand, uncertain. He wants to touch Flint. He needs proof that he is here, that he is solid. Now that he still is.

He touches Flint’s cheek with his fingertips. His skin is soft under Silver’s touch, and not yet cold.

They never touched like this, when Flint was alive. They only ever touched out of necessity: Silver putting his hand on Flint’s shoulder for support when he was having trouble walking. Flint putting his hand over Silver’s mouth when he needed him to shut up.

The most they had ever touched, was in the moment they had met, at the wrecks. Flint had crashed into Silver and pushed him back into the rocks, covering Silver with his full body. It hadn’t meant anything, then. Touching only becomes meaningful when you know each other longer. And that is what had happened to them. It had become meaningful between them, which was why they both avoided it. They would both rather not face the awkward feelings that had started to come with it. They had both been fine to continue existing in that space where there were reasonable excuses for them standing closer than necessary.  

But now, Flint is dead. And Silver needs to reach out to him with careful, innocent touches that he wished he could have shared with Flint when he was still there to feel them.  

Silver strokes the bristly hairs of Flint’s beard and moustache, just under his nose. A soft puff of air hits his fingers.

Silver holds his breath in shock. He keeps his hand still.

Another puff of air, incredibly faint but definitely, undeniably there, grazes over his skin.

He shoots up from his chair and runs out of the hut as fast as his legs can carry him, shouting ‘DOCTOR! DOCTOR!’

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know which one is your fave ;)


End file.
